The Restrictive Cycle of Modern Life and The Paradox of Our Systems

Aerial view of a busy urban avenue at dusk, with rows of cars and people walking among tall buildings - a visual metaphor for the structured and fast-paced rhythm of modern life

The other day, I was talking to a friend about how human beings have this habit of turning everything into a system, a goal, money and work. Today, there seems to be nothing that hasn't been capitalized — sport, video games, cinema, music, social networks, popular festivals, commemorative dates... everything has become a business. And I'm not just talking about the simple act of "making money", but the transformation of leisure, pleasure and even culture into structured obligations, with deadlines, expectations and rules to follow.

Let's take social networks as an example. At first, they were just a lighthearted way to share photos with friends or see what was going on in the world. But over time, this dynamic has changed. Today, they are much more than communication — they have become a source of income for millions of people. We've created a whole work around these platforms, with their own rules: post at least X times a week, follow certain schedules, keep up with trends, now short videos, then one-minute videos, grab attention in the first three seconds... and so on. Simply posting is no longer enough. The game has to be played by the rules — which, to make matters worse, change all the time.

The music and film industries are no different. Spotify and Netflix have made entertainment so accessible and saturated with options that this has had two main effects: (1) artists live under constant pressure to produce non-stop, at the risk of being forgotten in an industry that moves too fast; and (2) quantity has become worth more than quality. Creating something really good takes time — and time is something no one seems to have anymore. The platforms want disposable content: fast, light, replaceable. The demand is dynamic and fierce.

It's curious to realize how everything we create ends up becoming serious, demanding, structured. Maybe that says a lot about our brains. The simple " to exist" seems difficult for us. We don't just know how to be. We survive by giving function, utility and purpose to everything and everyone around us. This brings us a feeling of control, from belonging to a system that tells us what to do and how to do it.

Perhaps it's a reflection of our instinctive need to security. We live in an uncertain world and so we seek predictability. We create rules, metrics, systems. We need to know what's coming next, to feel that we're on the right track. As a result, we even turn leisure into a task, affection into performance, free time into productivity. And we often stop living in the moment — because the focus becomes the goal.

We have created a machine. And instead of enjoying the journey, we become slaves to it. Pleasure becomes a goal. Fun becomes work. Even the lightness of life becomes another obligation.

Life is complex in itself — but it doesn't have to be so complicated. The complication comes from the weight of the expectations we ourselves have invented. And the irony is that our creations should exist in order to simplifynot for overload. That freedom to just exist, to enjoy what is natural and spontaneous, is being lost in the midst of so many systems, controls and metrics. What could be simple pleasure ends up becoming a chore. Something to be conquered, and not lived.

The system, control and rules shape our behavior. But, paradoxically, are precisely the people who shape the system. What if, instead of adapting to the system, we started to intentionally change our behavior, forcing the system to readjust?

Think of market research: consumer behavior dictates the rules of the game. Collective power is real. It can transform the gears that imprison us.

Sometimes I wonder: what if, suddenly, everyone stopped following the rules imposed by the algorithms of the big tech companies? Algorithms created to keep us engaged - but which, in the end, only serve the interests of a few. Would the system collapse? The algorithm, confused, would have to relearn the rules of a new game, a game dictated by us, the collective. What if, one day, everyone started deleting their social networks? How would the giants respond?

It's important to stop and think: what are we really trying to achieve by turning everything into a system? By trying to control and structure everything, aren't we letting escape what is most valuable in the human experience?

Cha

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